The Worst Reporter Ever

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So here I am in my fourth European city in less than two weeks and I realize that I am the worst journalist (one who keeps a journal) ever. All of these exciting things are happening and it takes Tim and me five days just to find a place where it costs less than 6 Euro an hour just to get online.

If I were home right now it would be the first day of ren fest. Lighting up the grills, stealing cake from Anna in the kitchen, checking out the return rennies and the newbies, gearing up our insults and best of all, walking the beat with Alsn, dolling out scathing wit, free of charge.

But instead (sigh) I took a train from Rome to Florence (From the current capital of Italia to the former one). Man, my life is hard.

There are so many little things that have happened that I simply haven't had the time to tell you about. It's sad really.

Barcelona was a blast. Our sunburns are just now starting to peel but the memories of all the topless old ladies and their dogs will never fade. On the beach, asian women walked around selling massages and men of unknown origin sold BEBIDAS, COCA, CERVEZAS FRIAS. Really loudly. We took the openair tour bus so that we could see the city above ground, since we have a tendancy to enjoy the metro system a little too much.

We had to leave too early to catch our INSANE Ryanair flight to Rome. It's always reasuring if the plane can just manage to touch the ground upon landing instead of digging a trench.

Rome is, as ever, eternal. There is so much to see that no matter how much time you spend there it will never be enough. We visited countless churches and passed more than five hours in the Vatican Museums alone. Roman food, while excellent purely because it's italian, is being replaced as the favorite by Florentine food. There's just something about Tuscany.

I'd be a horrible friend if I didn't mention that my best friend, Trina, actually got to live here in Firenze for an entire semester about three years ago. I have to admit that I'm jealous that she got to cross the Ponte Vecchio (the only bridge to survive the bombings in WWII) on her way to class everyday. Granted, it's covered with hideous gold and silver jewelers, but it's captivating none the less.

Mostly, it's just difficult that once Tim and I get our bearings we have to pack up everything and move again. I had finally gotten a little used to the five-mile hike to the Seven Hills Villiage (For Fun-Loving People!) and after that, to the perpetually wet floors of the Stargate Hotel (across the street from the Anakin Stargate Hotel), to the crazy naked Scandinavians in Hostel Gaudi. Now Tim and I have one night in Locanda Daniel before we have to move across the street. Ahhhhhhh, I'm glad my backpack only weighs 900lbs.

It's hard to conserve money, even though we try. You can't really say no to paying the entrance fees to the greatest museums in the world when this is your one chance. Granted, we could save about 40 Euro a day if we just spent all our money on pub crawls but it's hard to see the city that way.

There's no way to describe how tired we both are but there's also no way to really describe everything that we've seen.

Today, I ate, literally, the most perfect strawberries I have ever seen in my entire life. I couldn't have believed that Strawberries that fine even existed. That's totally priceless. Totally.